


All Human Blessings

by ClutchHedonist



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Anal Sex, Armitage Hux Has Issues, Barebacking, Enemies to Lovers, Felon Kylo, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Intercrural Sex, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylux Big Bang, M/M, Parole supervisor Hux, Road Trips, Semi-Public Sex, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-29 20:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16750741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClutchHedonist/pseuds/ClutchHedonist
Summary: After the death of Han Solo, Kylo, a recent parolee, is forced to commence a pilgrimage with his parole supervisor, Hux, to sort Han's affairs.Art by PangolinPirate (pangolinpirate.tumblr.com)





	All Human Blessings

**Author's Note:**

> For the Kylux Big Bang 2018, illustrated by the incredible PangolinPirate (pangolinpirate.tumblr.com)
> 
> Join me in the kylux trash heap at clutchhedonist.tumblr.com

His supervising agent is a mousy man, thin-lipped and perpetually fidgeting, and Kylo glowers as he leans against the arm of the sofa to offer him his ankle. His pants are already rucked up above the ankle monitor, always are. He’d struggled to sleep the first few nights, with the size of it jutting up between his ankle bones. With the sound of Snoke’s choked gasp still fresh in his mind. The scalding scent of the jeep’s tires as they shrieked and gave way.

The agent is pulling on a pair of chalky rubber gloves. Kylo sneers at the propriety of it. There’s a cord, a sort of frame that attaches around the bracelet’s transmitter, and a set of blue and red lights flicker to life when it’s fixed in place.

 

“It’ll only take a few minutes.” The man assures him, “It just needs to send the correct signal back to the app. Wouldn’t want them to think you’re on the run all the way down there.” He jokes with a meek smile.

 

“I turned myself in.” Kylo tells him flatly.

 

The man withers a tad, “Yes. Well.” The blue light sputters out, and he gives a grateful sigh, “Let’s get this off, shall we?”

 

***

  


The wind over the Casco tugs at Hux’s shirt collar as he emerges through the double doors of the corner coffee shop. He smooths at it with the hand not looped around his cup, instinctively flits a few careful fingers along the shape of his hair. A prim sip of coffee (an agitated ‘ _whatever’s darkest_ ’ sighed over the gleaming espresso bar counter) carries him past the aging movie theater, around the corner and into the shade. Even this early, it’s beginning to creep into the seventies, and Hux finds himself both thankful for the handful of trees that line the street to the office and aching for the soothing London cloud cover.

 

He pauses alongside the ledge that separates the small parklet in front of the office from the sidewalk, shifts the briefing folders beneath his arm to give him access to his leather shoulder bag. Practiced fingers duck under the flap to fish out a pack of Sterlings. His lighter is soon to follow, and he sets the files atop the wall behind him to bring a cigarette to his lips. He thumbs at the lighter wheel once, twice. A few meager sparks prick up in its wake.

 

Hux hisses a sigh, mutters a soft,‘ _damnit_ ’ through his teeth. Typical. Perhaps the most responsibility he’s been given as a parole supervisor, and now he’ll spend the initial interview tight chested and picking at his cuticles.

 

“Need a light?”

 

The voice is low, full, and Hux’s gaze snaps up to its owner. The man is a few inches taller than him, dark haired and aquiline, with shoulders easily broad enough to eclipse Hux’s own. A scar splits one pale cheek, from the inside corner of his brow and down past his jawline. He carries himself like something that knows it’s feral, half-apologizing and half-reveling in the fact.

 

“...Thanks.” Hux exhales as he lifts the end of the cigarette.

 

The man gives a stilted nod, digging in the pockets of his dark denim jacket and producing a lighter of his own. Hux steps closer as he lifts it and flicks it to life. The flame flutters in the breeze. Hux reaches up.

 

Kylo stiffens as the redhead’s hands cup his own. The light steadies between them, working flecks of gold into his light eyelashes as he leans in. The cherry of the cigarette burns to life. Kylo watches his lean throat work as he steps back for a drag.

 

Hux tilts the carton towards him, inviting. Kylo plucks a cigarette from it, lights it with his own hand to shelter it from the wind.

 

“Thanks.” He murmurs.

 

Hux nods in response.

 

“...You from around here?” Kylo tries.

 

“For the last few years, at least.” Hux says.

 

“British?”

 

Hux presses his lips into a thin smile, “However did you find out?”

 

Kylo sniffs a chuckle and offers him a hand, “Kylo.”

 

“Oh, some sort of artist, are you?” He takes another drag, then shakes it, “Hux. Not a moniker.”

 

“I’m not an artist.” Kylo protests.

 

“Is that your real name, then? ‘Kylo’?”

 

A hint of a frown, “...No.”

 

“A musician, I suppose?” Hux quips.

 

“I’m a welder.” Kylo tells him.

 

Hux glances over him, dwells for just a moment on the long, angular hand that holds his cigarette, “...At the docks?”

 

Kylo shrugs, “For a while.”

 

They fall silent for a few breaths. Hux allows himself the indulgence of a handful of curious glances. Even beneath his jacket, he can make out hints of the muscular shape of him. He idly wonders if he’s ever seen him before, at one of the bars near the water, after dark when the sparing light serves to blur the faces of the patrons nearly as much as the whisky. But even then, he’d remember a frame like this.

 

He lingers beside him until his cigarette burns down to the filter and then, he tells himself with little room for protest, the time for pleasant diversion is over. He flicks the spent butt to the pavement, grinds it out with the heel of one polished wingtip. He spares a short nod to Kylo, who stubs out his own on the wall behind them.

 

“Thanks for the light.” Hux says.

 

Kylo has a crooked half-smile that tugs the line of his scar meandering, “Thanks for the smoke.”

 

Hux plucks his files from the ledge, tucking them under his arm once more, and makes for the door. He’s perplexed to find Kylo behind him when he reaches it.

 

“Did you need something?” He asks, one eyebrow arched.

 

“I-” Kylo motions towards the door of the parole office.

 

“You-” Hux freezes, “...Ah.”

 

“What, you-?” Kylo’s brows cant, “...Do you have a hearing or something?”

 

Hux’s shoulders stiffen, “I work here.”

 

“...Oh.”

 

Hux takes a slow breath, “You don’t happen to be here for a supervisor consultation?” Kylo watches him warily, and Hux has to school his feature dispassionate to keep from cringing, “...Ben Solo?”

 

“Nobody calls me that anymore.”

 

Hux sighs and pulls the door open.

 

***

 

He’s never been to Louisiana. Never even considered going. Hux grumbles softly to himself as he folds, then rolls another shirt, nestling it into his suitcase beside its fellows. The idea of smothering in some godforsaken swamp to monitor a felon - _Kylo,_ the pure audacity of that pseudonym - for a funeral has already sent him halfway through his fourth mug of black tea for the evening.

 

Hux spares a glance at the file spread out over his nightstand. Ben Solo. Vehicular manslaughter in the second degree. Drunk, of course. They always are. He’d served five years, another two of house arrest. Hux can’t muster the hope for a good conversation partner.

 

It’s going to take hours. Days. Hux has plotted their route thrice already and can’t seem to cut it down to anything less than twenty six hours on a good day. There’ll be stops. Whole evenings in cramped budget hotels. And then God only knows how long it’ll take Kylo to get his father’s affairs in order. Hux can only assume that he’s the sole inheritor.

 

He pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment, swallows down for what must be the fourth time in an hour the crawling embarrassment of their earlier mishap. Falters, imagining Kylo catching a glimpse of his gaze as it traced along the line of his broad shoulders. The rough, skulking shape of him. He winces and shuffles the file shut.

 

***

 

“We’re not to add any unnecessary stops.” Hux protests as Kylo thumbs a Manhattan address into their rental’s GPS. After a brief scuffle in the office parking lot, their luggage is finally arranged in the trunk, Kylo’s beaten leather duffel bags squeezed into the spaces between Hux’s matched set of cases. Hux’s files -Kylo’s and his next two cases, to assuage the monotony- are tucked into the briefcase behind his seat.

 

Kylo frowns, “It’s my mother’s apartment.”

 

“I wasn’t informed that we’d be bringing anyone else to the funeral.” Hux says, fingers tightening on the wheel.

 

“Oh, she’s not going.” Kylo huffs, “She just knows I am.”

 

“And?”

 

Kylo rolls his eyes, “You’ve obviously never met my mother. We have to stop there on the way down.”

 

“We most certainly do not.”

 

“Just-” Kylo makes a vague gesture, “Log it as leaving the route for dinner or something. We have to eat. Even the parole board knows that.”

 

Hux arches an eyebrow, “Leaving the route by what, an hour and a half?”

 

“An hour. Tops. It’s barely going to make a difference. We have to pass right by the city anyway.”

 

“And then?” Hux asks as he backs out of the lot,  “We’re not staying there for the night.”

 

Kylo snorts, “Only if you want me dead, too.” Hux spares him a short glance. Kylo gives half a shrug, mock casual, “We don’t really get along.”

 

“I trust that I’m not going to be forced to break up a domestic dispute?” Hux questions as he looks over him. If his mother is anywhere near his size, Hux is fairly certain he’d be killed in the process.

 

“No.” Kylo huffs. He leans against the door, squirming to find room for his legs. He settles for slinging one heel up onto the dashboard, “She’s got staff for that.”

 

“Don’t do that.” Hux sniffs, “You’re going to leave marks.”

 

Kylo glances at him. Hux watches him for a long moment, and Kylo slowly lets his leg fall back into the footwell. Frowning, he fumbles in his jacket pocket to produce a pair of headphones, and then, tucking them into his ears, slumps wordlessly against the window. Hux purses his lips and regrips the wheel.

 

***

 

They stop along the highway in Massachusetts for lunch. Kylo puts too much cream and sugar in his coffee and hardly speaks except for a few muttered, “ _you’re welcome_ ”s when he stretches out an arm to hold the plaza door for passersby. Hux takes it from him when he reaches it.

 

They crumple their waxy sandwich wrappers into a plastic bag that Kylo slings over the gearshift. He taps his knees incessantly with his fingertips to the rhythm of whatever is playing in his headphones. Hux can hear the dull thud of drums, the scraping of guitar. He aims a few pointed glances in his direction, and Kylo retreats to looking out the window. Hux sees his shoulders begin to tighten when they cross into Connecticut.

 

He sits up west of New Haven.

 

“No.” He says sharply.

 

Hux nearly jumps, then glances to him, “No?”

 

Kylo plucks his earbuds from his ears, “Not 87. You have to take 95.”

 

Hux’s gaze falls on the GPS, “It says 87 is faster.”

 

“You’re going to get stuck on the parkway when you reach the city. You have to be on 95.”

 

“There’s more traffic on 95.” Hux insists.

 

“Not when you get to the city. Besides, then you have to cross back again to get to the upper east side. It takes forever.”

 

“We’re already making an extra stop. We need to save time.”

 

“It doesn’t save time!” Kylo barks. Hux’s eyebrows cant, and Kylo flushes. Crossing his arms over his chest, he sinks back into his seat, “It doesn’t.”

 

“We’re sticking to the route.” Hux grates.

 

“Not like I have anywhere to fucking be.” Kylo grunts.

 

Hux huffs, “Don’t take that tone with me. We have a week before we need to be in Louisiana.”

 

“We’re going to need it if you keep driving like someone’s grandmother.” Kylo retorts.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Kylo rolls his eyes, “You’re barely going seventy.”

 

“This car is a rental. And the speed limit is sixty five.”

 

“And everyone is passing us while you go seventy. Learn to drive.”

 

“Of the two of us, remind me which one has a vehicular felony?”

 

Kylo gives him a sharp glance. Hux feels his shoulders stiffen. The silence between them grows taut as a handful of moments pass.

 

“...Fuck you.” Kylo finally says and shoves his earbuds back into place.

 

***

 

He’s grumbling to himself as they pass eastward through the city. Hux ignores it in favor of quietly cursing at pedestrians under his own breath. By the time they reach the upper east side, the afternoon sunlight has grown heavy and orange, painting the glossy windows of the highrise that Kylo sighs at the sight of. Hux finds the the thick, humid air clinging to the back of his neck as soon as he’s outside the car.

 

“...This is where your mother lives?” Hux asks as he looks over the building.

 

“She’s a politician.” Kylo notes sourly.

 

“Ah.”

 

Without another word, Kylo makes for the double doors. The lobby attendant gives them an appraising glance from behind the desk as they enter.

 

“Leia Organa.” Kylo grunts, “Seventeenth floor.”

 

The attendant gives a slow nod and waves them through. Beyond the smooth wood paneling of the lobby is a set of elevators. Hux watches Kylo stand in front of the doors of one of them for a long moment before punching the call button.

 

“Is there anything in particular you’d prefer that I tell her in regards to my position?” Hux asks.

 

“She’ll know why you’re here.” Kylo huffs darkly.

 

“I see.”

 

The arrival bell chimes, and then they’re being whisked up to the seventeenth floor. Inside the elevator, the air is tight, and Kylo’s fists are balled in the pockets of his jacket. Hux watches his adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows.

 

“My cousin’s going to be there.” He murmurs after a moment, “...She’s not really my cousin. We just call her that.”

 

Hux nods, “Understood.”

 

“She’s British, too.” Kylo remarks.

 

Hux gives a noncommittal, ‘mm’. The doors slide back, revealing a similarly immaculate wood paneled hallway. For a moment, Hux wonders if they’ll simply ride the elevator right back to the lobby. Then, Kylo is over the threshold, storming towards one of the doors, head down and shoulders sloped like a junkyard dog.

 

“Don’t be an asshole to her.” Kylo grunts, then he’s knocking on the door.

 

The woman who throws it open is about half the size that Hux had pictured, her long hair drawn back into a carefully braided bun. A silent moment passes, and then her arms are tight around Kylo’s middle.

 

“Oh, Ben.” The name is weary on her lips.

 

Kylo winces, “Mom. Don’t.”

 

She’s glancing past his shoulder on one side, and Hux gives a short nod of acknowledgement, “Ma’am.”

 

“Leia.” She tells him, one hand already on Kylo’s sleeve, “Please, come inside.” She steps back from the door, allowing both of them to pass.

 

“Ben?” There’s a bright voice further down the hall, and Kylo looks up. A few light footfalls bring a small, tanned brunette into view, “Ben!” A smile cracks her lips, and her gait quickens to meet him. When she does, she throws her arms around his chest.

 

He grunts a chuckle at the impact, winds his own long arms around her shoulders, “Rey.”

 

“Leia told me you were coming. I had to stop by before I went to LaGuardia. I-” Her voice drops, “Ben, I’m so sorry about Han.”

 

Kylo’s smile fades, “I-”

 

“Oh, who’s this?” She asks as she catches a glimpse of Hux, “Boyfriend?”

 

Hux coughs, and Kylo rolls his eyes, “Supervisor. Still on parole.”

 

Rey flushes faintly, “Oh. Er-...” She gives a quick half-wave, “Hullo.”

 

Leia takes a few steps closer, shuffling them forward ahead of her, “Dinner’s ready in the dining room. Let’s go.”

 

Hux allows himself to be shepherded down the hall and into the sleek, well-lit dining room. A glass-topped table for four is already set.

 

“You’ll have to excuse the lack of meat.” Leia notes as she takes a seat, “Rey’s vegetarian.”

 

“I know.” Kylo grumbles.

 

Leia shoots him a brief glance, “I know. I was telling your friend.”

 

“He’s not-”

 

“Thank you.” Hux cuts him off, “I’m certain it’s all perfectly lovely.”

 

Leia’s eyebrows cant, and the corner of her mouth pricks up, “How long are you traveling with him again?”

 

“As long as is required to see that everything is in order for the estate.” Hux tells her, schooling his features impassive.

 

“Hopefully enough for him to learn some manners.” She remarks. Kylo frowns, and she forges onward, “Please, sit.”

 

They all obey, filling the remaining seats at the table, Kylo in the center of them, across from his mother. Hux watches him inspect his plate, thumb at his fork, eyes downcast and lips tight.

 

“So, Rey tells me Han had you listed as his executor?” Leia begins with her first forkful.

 

Grimacing, Kylo swallows back a sigh as Rey casts him an apologetic glance, “Mm.”

 

“I ...don’t imagine he left much of an estate.” Leia ventures, “If you need help-

 

“I can do it.” Kylo snaps, “I don’t need you to do it.”

 

“I’m just saying, it’s a lot of work.”

 

“I’m sure Ben’s gotten ready for it.” Rey offers, looking to him hopefully.

 

“I’ve looked into it.” Kylo tells her, mouth pursing.

 

Leia watches him evenly, “So you know that you’ll need to file a final income tax re-”

 

Kylo’s nostrils flare, “I know, I know.”

 

Hux watches splotches of red rise in his pale cheeks. He takes a measured breath, then leans forward a hint, “Leia, are these capers in this stuffing? It’s quite delicious.”

 

She looks to him and smiles quickly, “Mm. One of Ben’s favorites.”

 

Kylo’s lips twitch, and his gaze returns to his plate.

 

***

 

It’s well after nine when they finally make it back out to the car. Rey gives him a curious glance as they go, but Leia offers him a firm handshake and her thanks. She clasps Kylo to her once more just outside the door. Hux sees him stiffen in her grip. Kylo says nothing as they slide back into their seats.

 

“We’re not going to make it through much of Pennsylvania.” Hux remarks as he starts the car.

 

“Mm.” Kylo murmurs as he sprawls back against the window.

 

Hux watches him for a moment, “...You might consider looking up a motel in advance?” He suggests.

 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Kylo flares.

 

Hux sniffs, “I merely meant that it might be less expensive than just walking in off the st-”

 

“Look, just shut up, okay?” Kylo bites, “I don’t need you to hen peck me, just fucking drive.”

 

“I’m not _hen pecking._ ” Hux says, bristling, “We have a limited allowance for room and board on the road. If we don’t adhere to that you’re going to be covering the additional spending out of pocket”

 

“Just- just fucking- whatever!” Kylo crosses his arms over his chest, “I don’t care.”

 

“Fine.” Hux drawls, “It’s your money.”

 

“Yeah, it is. So let me handle it.”

 

“Be my guest.”

 

New Jersey rolls past, at first in crowded lots and belching smokestacks, and then in sudden, long bursts of swelling green. When Hux feels his eyelids beginning to sag, they pull over at their second service plaza. The restroom fixtures are identical to the first.

 

As they reach the head of the Starbucks line, Kylo shoulders in front of him to pay for both of their drinks. Hux blinks.

 

“...Thank you?”

 

He can’t quite make out whatever it is that Kylo murmurs in return. His imagination paints it an apology.

 

“What are you listening to?” He ventures as they climb back into the car.

 

Kylo gives a minute shrug, “Depends.”

 

“On what?” Hux flicks the lights on, pulls back into the river of ink that the highway has become in the dark.

 

“Mood.”

 

“Mm.” Hux nods faintly. Then, nearly a minute later, “There’s room for an auxiliary cord, you know.” He taps the small jack in the car’s console.

 

Kylo glances over at him, intrigue and suspicion competing for purchase in his dark eyes. Hux is as still as if he’s just laid a morsel of food in front of an unfamiliar animal. Slowly, Kylo unplugs his headphones.

 

***

The music is terrible, all guileless drums and struggling tenor, but at least it keeps him awake. They straggle into the parking lot of a squat Motel 6 somewhere outside Harrisburg just after midnight. Hux winces as he gets to his feet, stretches his legs before rounding to the trunk for his things. Kylo lopes out after him.

 

The fluorescent lights of the lobby drone a monotone hum. Hux hangs back with their bags as Kylo mumbles their way into the last remaining vacant room for the evening. When they swing back the door, peeling orange paint and a single queen-size bed await them.

 

“...I’m going to the pool.” Kylo grunts. He drops his duffel by the door without ceremony and paws through the lukewarm minifridge for a handful of dusty, nip-sized bottles. Hux pinches the bridge of his nose and begins to toe off his shoes.

 

Every cough, every footfall can be heard through the paper thin walls as Kylo makes his way past the line of doors between them and the deck of the pool. The carpeting reminds him of an arcade he used to escape to with Rey when they were kids, faded whorls of garish color and geometry. The pool itself is hardly bigger than their bathtub, a kidney-shaped affair surrounded by a rickety painted iron fence that he pulls himself up over with little difficulty.

 

He peels away his jacket, slings it over the back of one of the brittle deck lounges. It gives a wary crackle beneath his weight as he sinks down onto it, but holds after a moment. Kylo exhales.

 

The lights beneath the surface paint a dull blue-green over the deck, and the flickers of ripples made by the pool filter leave his skin criss-crossed like a decaying fresco. He shucks his jeans, nudging them off the side of the lounge with one foot, then slouches back. One long hand fishes for a bottle in the pocket of his discarded jacket.

 

“You shouldn’t be drinking, you know.”

 

Hux’s pale skin is already flecked with sweat, even stripped down to an undershirt tank and shorts.

 

“I don’t care.” Kylo retorts.

 

“Let me in.”

 

Kylo rises for a moment to unlock the gate, then slumps back down.

 

Hux gives a resigned sigh, “It smells miserable in there.” He notes as he lowers himself into the chair beside Kylo’s. Then, wordlessly, he plucks one of the nips from Kylo’s jacket.

 

Kylo arches an eyebrow. Hux gives the lid a sharp twist, and then half the contents are gone.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be the responsible one?” Kylo says.

 

Hux shoots him a withering glance, “I am.” Another sip, “I loathe hot weather.”

 

“It’s not hot.” Kylo snorts.

 

“For you.”

 

“It’s not going to get any better down there.”

 

Hux purses his lips, then drains the bottle.

 

Kylo watches him for a long moment, “...Have you ever even been down south?”

 

“As far as America goes, we’re currently as far south as I’ve ever cared to wander.” Hux tells him.

 

“What?” Kylo gawks.

 

Hux shrugs faintly, “We moved to Vermont straight from London.”

 

“You lived in Vermont?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Hux leans back minutely in his chair, “It’s not as if we lived in Montpelier.” He says, “Although I suppose even that’s hardly a city to you, what with your mother in a Manhattan high rise.”

 

Kylo glowers, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Hux waves it away, “Nothing.” He says.

 

“I’m not rich.” Kylo argues.

 

“I didn’t say you were.”

 

“No, but that’s what you meant.”

 

“That’s your assumption.”

 

Kylo huffs and sags back in his chair. A single belt finishes his first of the bottles. “You’ll see.” He tells him darkly.

 

Hux shrugs, tugs at the hem of his shirt to wipe away the sweat that clings to his cheeks. Kylo catches a glimpse of the fine red hair trailing down beneath his navel. Somehow, impossibly, his skin is paler beneath the shirt, even flushed as he is.

 

“I can’t decide which is worse, the heat or the smell.” Hux sniffs.

 

“Yeah, well, the air conditioner down there probably hasn’t worked since the late nineties.” Kylo grumbles.

 

Hux heaves a sigh, “Tell me you’re kidding.”

 

“I wish.” Kylo says, then offers him another bottle.

 

Hux shakes his head, then leans back in his chair to look out over the pool. In the whirring chatter of cicadas, Kylo finds himself watching the light play over his sharp features, then quickly corrects his gaze to his own hands.

 

They pass a handful of words between them over the next half hour or so. Hux is forced to surrender to the heat soon afterwards. He gives himself another hour of silence beside the pool before following suit.

 

The queen is wide, and Hux sleeps on his side. Kylo edges between the sheets on the opposite side of the bed and manages to avoid brushing their limbs together, at least for as long as it takes him to drowse off.

 

He feels one of Hux’s ankles stir against his as the alarm on his phone chimes shortly after dawn. Just beginning to blur into waking, he tries to withdraw deeper into the covers, only to find one of his forearms nestled into the curve of Hux’s back. He snakes it back swiftly before Hux’s eyelids flutter open, then remains motionless, his own eyes closed, as he feels weight lift up from the bed.

 

“If you intend to have breakfast or a shower, now’s the time.” He can hear Hux telling him, and a moment later, the bathroom fan whirrs to life.

 

“Hngh.” He murmurs and smears one hand across his face. His body aches, dull and heavy, and it takes him a few long moments to realize why. Beneath the sheets, his cock is stiff and sensitive, and Kylo winces and crackles out a low, “Goddamnit.”

 

***

 

Hux lets his thumbs graze back and forth along the underside of the steering wheel. Increasingly convinced that Virginia is endless, he switches listlessly between radio stations. Sunken low in the passenger seat beside him, Kylo is half-asleep in an unruly whorl of his own dark curls. Hux purses his lips.

 

A flash of red catches his eye in the rearview mirror. Looking up into it, Hux can see a lifted pickup beginning to press in on his bumper. He rolls his eyes and doesn’t move an inch as its headlights flash. It swerves out to the right, the driver cursing in Hux’s peripheral vision as the truck roars past and dives back into the lane ahead of him. There’s a tarp tied over in the back of it, antlers and a hint of tawny fur just cresting above it. One of the deer’s lifeless legs lolls over the side of the truck bed.

 

Hux wrinkles his nose. He can still remember the smell of blood, the soft, smooth brush of fur against his cheek as he’d struggled to load their kill onto his father’s truck. And before that, awakening in the pitch black before dawn, sitting silently in the passenger seat as his father delivered a homily of sound hunting practice. The way that his compound bow had felt against his palms, the way the string bucked and shimmied against the meagre strength of his drawing arm. The way that his father had hissed, “Fire. Armitage, _fire._ ” into his ear before he had let go. The thud of the arrow as it found flesh. He’d waited until after they’d hung it from the back porch to cool to retreat into the bathroom, then thrown the taps open to cover his retching.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

The murmur from beside him shakes him free from his thoughts, and he glances over at Kylo, “Mm?”

 

Kylo straightens in his seat, pushes his disobedient hair back off his forehead, “You’re making a face.”

 

Hux schools his features smooth, then allows himself an arched eyebrow, “Am I?”

 

Kylo rolls his eyes, “Fine. Whatever.”

 

“Go back to sleep.” Hux tells him.

 

***

 

“I’m starving, we’re stopping.” Kylo grumbles.

 

“We are not stopping at one of these - these maudlin shacks.” Hux gapes.

 

Kylo snorts, “They’re just mom and pops.”

 

“They’re all advertising ham and fireworks. I’m not going to be killed on the side of the road like some sort of drifter.”

 

“Oh, come on. They’re not even going to realize that you’re gay.” Kylo shoots back.

 

Hux freezes, “...I’m sorry?”

 

“They’ll just think you’re foreign.”

 

“I-” Hux feels his face flushing, “First of all, my orientation is none of your concern. Second, you can’t simply-”

 

Kylo glances at him, “...What, are you straight?”

 

Hux coughs, “I’m your parole supervisor, this isn’t-”

 

“Then supervise me getting some goddamn food.” Kylo tells him, “Otherwise I’m not gonna’ be able to think of anything else to discuss.”

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Hux lets out a tight sigh, “...Fine.”

 

The next roadside shop is a bright jumble of cracking sunflower yellow siding and broad, hand-painted signs for live bait and virginia ham. Kylo slouches, all overlong limbs, from the passenger seat and then stretches to his full height in the warm, heavy air. He watches Hux emerge from the opposite side of the car, tight-lipped and posture rigid. Kylo rolls his eyes.

 

“Come on.” He says, then strides without pause for the screen door. When he glances over his shoulder, Hux is still behind him, though silent. For a moment, Kylo is reminded of himself, trailing, sullen, just over Han’s shoulder.

 

The shelves are packed claustrophobic with off-brand candy and cans of boiled peanuts. In the corner of the store, a weary cooler filled with small tubs of live bait gives off an anemic hum. Kylo can imagine Hux blanching at the sight of it, and instead of looking back, makes for the half-warm grab and go section. He finds that his eyes still instinctively skim right past anything labelled ‘salad’.

 

He remembers the scent of the cab of Han’s semi, the supple staleness of lived-in faux leather. Remembers tumbling, youthfully lanky, down into dozens of dusty parking lots. Listlessly browsing the same shelves of bandanas and novelty lighters and shoelaces as Han spoke in hushed tones to the cashier, or to the only other trucker for miles.

 

The first time he had known, he had been, what, nine or ten? He’s not entirely certain. But he remembers seeing Han fishing in one of the pockets of his vest, understanding for the first time, with sudden and terrible clarity, the contents of the miniature ziploc that he had passed over the counter. When Han had noticed him watching, he’d slid a bag of candied pecans down the counter towards him. Kylo’s stomach had lurched, and the plastic bag with his lunch inside had remained untouched at his feet until they arrived at a gas station in North Carolina and he’d had a chance to pummel it into one of the dented trash cans. Afterward, it had become just another entry on the list of things he’d never tell Leia.

 

He frowns to himself and pays for his food without a word.

 

***

 

Hux’s tank is plastered to his chest, the skin splotched heat-ruddy where its normal pallor would make a starker contrast against the dark fabric. He kicks the stiff sheets further down the bed, then heaves a sigh. Beside his bed, the motel room’s air conditioner rattles and hums, but for all of its efforts, produces only a feeble breeze.

 

Sprawled out on the opposite bed, he can see Kylo’s enormous frame rising and falling with steady, restful breath. Hux frowns. How anyone can manage comfort in this sort of stifling humidity is beyond him, but Kylo is unperturbed.

 

There are flecks on his arms, his broad shoulders and back, the same as the few on his face that Hux has found himself more and more familiar with. In the relative dark that their curtains offer against the lights in the parking lot, Hux allows his gaze a moment to roam.

 

The shape of him is almost inhuman. Hux recalls their first conversation, a few days ago that feel like months, now, after the ensuing slog. He pictures Kylo at the docks with his hair drawn back, sweating as he shrugs off a welder’s mask. Aquiline, animal. Prowling. He feels his breath catch for a moment in his throat.

 

It doesn’t matter. He’s a parolee. He’s a drunk. He’s ill-tempered and childish. Hux turns over onto his opposite side, drags the sheets closer around himself and then immediately regrets it and shoves them away once more. Tries not to imagine what it would feel like to have Kylo’s hand, vice-like, close around the full breadth of his bicep. To be lifted, thrown, malused, all brutish strength.

 

With a hissed sigh, he clenches his jaw and forces his eyes shut.

 

***

 

The trees become more and more gnarled, heavy with grey spanish moss the further they pierce into Louisiana. Kylo can smell the water before he sees it, before the highway begins to wind through the dense vegetation of flat, sprawling marshland. He smirks to himself when Hux winces the first time he gets a whiff of it.

 

“Almost there.” Kylo offers.

 

“Thank God.” Hux huffs. His hand flutters to the air conditioning knob, only to find it, for what must be the third or fourth time, already set to maximum.

 

Kylo shifts in his seat as their GPS begins to count tenths of miles, “It’s not-...” He begins, then bites his lip, frowns and looks out the window.

 

Hux spares him a brief glance, “Hm?”

 

“...It’s not much.” Kylo tells him.

 

“What’s not?” Hux asks.

 

Kylo makes a vague motion further down the road, “His- all of it.”

 

“...Ah.”

 

“So don’t. Don’t expect some plantation mansion or anything.” He can feel warmth beneath his skin, keeps his face turned towards the marsh.

 

“Noted.”

 

Hux’s voice is impermeable, and Kylo chews at the inside of his cheek. The last few roads to their destination are narrow and cracked, their edges caked with mud, brackish water slithering alongside them in deep ditches. Kylo turns to see Hux’s fingers tighten minutely on the wheel as their rental rattles across them.

 

“Don’t bother with the driveway when we turn.” He tells him, “Just park by the mailbox.”

 

The box itself is barely more than rusted lattice attached to a post when Hux guides the car into the overlong grass beside it. One of the numbers is missing, although a blanched ghost of it lingers in the darkened wood. Kylo remains motionless in the car as Hux unbuckles himself and slides out to stretch.

 

“...Are you coming?” Hux asks him after a long moment.

 

“...Mm.” Kylo grunts. Long fingers duck into the footwell to fish out the bag containing what’s left of their lunch. He shoves it haphazardly into the back pocket of his jeans.

 

The long driveway winds between walls of cypress trees and sharp splays of yucca. As the familiar mud and gravel crunches beneath his feet, Kylo’s stomach sways. Hux walks at his side, wordless, cheeks already heat-ruddy. They turn the final bench, and the ranch house, strangely and suddenly foreign with its occupant missing, comes into view. The white paint, which Kylo remembers renewing against the humidity each summer of his childhood, is lifting up from the boards in huge flakes like jagged moths just barely perched on the wood. The cinder blocks that hold it a few feet above the mud are crawling with ivy. There are scattered holes in the screen door, some large enough that Kylo could fit his fist through them.

 

“You have the keys, I assume?” Hux asks, and Kylo nearly starts at the sound of his voice.

 

“Don’t need them.” Kylo sighs, “S’not like he’ll have locked it.”

 

“The authorities may have.” Hux says delicately.

 

Kylo winces, “...Mm.” He sloughs his bag from his shoulder. It skims the ground before he gathers it up by the strap, and then his hand is pawing through the front pocket. He produces a worn keyring a few moments later, then steps up to the door. It yields with a squealing croak.

 

Dust, stale beer, and night upon night of overheated TV dinners. The inside of the house smells just the way it always has. Kylo’s lips tighten.

 

“Bedrooms are that way.” He grunts and motions down the singular hallway just past the kitchen, “You can have the one on the right. I’ll take left.”

 

Hux nods and begins down the hall. Kylo hears the floorboard in the center of it creak, the one just beside the bathroom door that Han had never bothered to fix, and tries to keep from wincing. Instead, he drops his bag on the faded tiles of the kitchen floor and throws open one of the cabinets.

 

It’s full to bursting inside, littered with rumpled, half-full bags of potato chips and dented cans. Kylo dares a handful of chips before gagging and glancing at the expiration date. Almost a year ago. He grumbles beneath his breath and relegates them to the trash. They’re followed by bag after bag, can after can, until the entire cabinet is nearly empty. A few meagre, barely up to date survivors remain, a singular can of soup and a few varieties of beans. He sighs. The fridge is next, and full tupperware containers of god knows what go into the garbage unopened. The lightbulb inside it dies somewhere about halfway through the process of clearing it.

 

“Of course.” Kylo groans.

 

“Of course what?” Hux is at the opening of the hallway again, leaning against one wall, arms crossed over his chest as he watches.

 

Kylo frowns, “Might as well have lived in the truck. Only ever left junk here, anyway.”

 

“Ah.” Hux straightens, glancing over one of Kylo’s shoulders at the contents left in the fridge - a handful of condiment bottles and an open box of baking soda, “...I suppose we’ll be going to the grocery, then.”

 

“Tomorrow.” Kylo huffs, “I can’t take another minute in the fucking car.”

 

He ignores Hux’s arched brow and instead rises, seizing the remaining can of soup from the cupboards. A moment’s fishing beneath the sink uncovers a small pot, and Kylo tosses it on the stovetop and empties the viscous contents of the can into it. When he twists the dial for the burner, the stove gives a series of clicks and rattles, but there’s no spark to ignite the gas. Kylo tries another burner, and another. The last doesn’t even make a sound.

 

“Fuck.” He storms as he all but throws the pot into the sink, “ _Fuck!_ ”

 

He can hear Hux’s sharp intake of breath behind him, “Enough.” He tells him.

 

Kylo growls, “Shut up. Just-...just _shut up_.” And then he’s snatching his bag off of the table, storming down the hallway and launching it onto the bed from the doorway. Hux is still watching him when he skulks back into the kitchen.

 

“Let’s go.” He hisses through clenched teeth.

 

***

 

The tinny wailing of steel guitar greets them through the grocery’s speakers as soon as they pass through the automatic doors. Hux wrinkles his nose, but goosebumps prick up on his arms at the air-conditioned relief from the wet, heavy air.

 

“There’s a grill in the back.” Kylo is telling him sullenly, “If we need to heat anything up, I can probably get it going.”

 

“...I see.” Hux says.

 

“...Shut up.” Kylo shoots again for good measure.

 

“I didn’t say anything.” Hux sniffs.

 

Kylo scowls, “No, but you were thinking it.”

 

Hux rolls his eyes as he plucks a basket from the caddy, “Are you a mind-reader now, is that it?”

 

“You’re not hard to read.” Kylo grumbles, “You think you are, but you’re not.”

 

“Please, do go on. Your unique insight into my psyche is fascinating.” Hux drawls.

 

Kylo nearly growls, “Listen, you can just fucking-”

 

He’s interrupted by a pleased call of, “Ben!”

 

Hux’s gaze swivels into the produce section. The man fast approaching them has to be in his sixties, although he hardly carries himself like it. There’s grey in his mustache, but it barely reaches to the whorls of his dark, well-kempt hair. A broad grin splits his face, one hand raised as he waves towards them.

 

“Lando.” Kylo murmurs.

 

The man arrives with a hearty clap to Kylo’s shoulder, “Hey, kid! Didn’t know if we’d be seeing you. Glad to be right.”

 

“I-” Kylo stutters, “...Yeah. You, too.”

 

“Lando Calrissian.” He offers a hand towards Hux, and gives a firm shake when Hux meets it, “Pleased to meet you.”

 

“Armitage Hux.” Hux inclines his head minutely.

 

“You with Ben?” Lando gives a nod towards Kylo, “Worked with his father for years. Good man.”

 

Hux sees Kylo suck in a quick breath, “I’m sure.” He cuts him off quickly, “It’s a pleasure.”

 

“How long’re you two in town?” Lando turns back towards Kylo to ask.

 

Kylo jerks a small shrug, “Whatever it takes to sort things out.”

 

Lando’s smile dims, and he gives a nod, then braces a hand on Kylo’s shoulder, “Hey. You need some time away from all of that, you let me know. I’ll take you both out on the lake, give you time to clear your head a little.”

 

To Hux’s surprise, Kylo gives a minute nod and a noncommittal “ _mm_ ” instead of an outright refusal.

 

Lando smiles once more. “Good. I’ll let you boys get back to your shopping. But you call me if you need anything, you hear? We’re as good as family, you and me. You understand?”

 

Kylo offers another nod, and, with a squeeze of his shoulder, Lando returns it, then makes his way back towards his cart.

 

“That was kind of him.” Hux notes as they walk towards the aisles.

 

Kylo frowns, “I guess. I’m not- we’re not going or anything.”

 

Hux’s brows cant, “I’m hardly asking to.”

 

“Good.”

 

***

 

“God damnit!”

 

Kylo is wedged under the grill, hands already blackened with grease and ancient soot. From the doorway to the house, Hux watches him throw a rusted tangle of iron across the yard.

 

“Fucking ridiculous.” Kylo is snarling as he smears one forearm across his sweat-slick brow, “This is insane. When was the last time he even- _fuck._ ” He growls to himself and sinks back into place.

 

Hux crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe. There’s a scrape, a clank, and then Kylo lets out a litany of curses.

 

“Come here.” He finally barks as he leans back out from under the grill just long enough to peel off and toss away his shirt, now damp with sweat.

 

Hux arches an eyebrow, “Me?”

 

“No, fucking- a goddamned alligator or something.” Kylo growls, gesturing wildly back towards the treeline of the marsh that melts up against the backyard.

 

Rolling his eyes, Hux makes his way gingerly through the shin-high grass, “What is it?”

 

“Hold this.” Kylo motions to a metal plate that seems to be meant to hold the apparatus he now has in his hands, “Flush against the grill.”

 

“Am I going to contract tetanus?” Hux drawls as he kneels beside him.

 

Kylo fixes him with a glare, “Do you want to eat or not?”

 

With a small sniff, Hux works both hands up beneath the grill to fit the plate in place. Immediately, he can see the source of Kylo’s frustration - there are remnants of two screws rusted clean through still stuck in place.

 

Kylo leans back in. Hux’s gaze flicks down to him as he does, and then he quickly turns away. He can hear Kylo huff a sigh, and then one enormous hand is splayed overtop of his. Hux shivers.

 

“Like this.” Kylo orders as he grinds the heel of his hand down onto Hux’s, “You have to hold it tighter.”

 

Hux swallows a breath, frowns to cover it, “You needn’t crush me.”

 

“Then hold onto it yourself.” Kylo snaps.

 

“I am!”

 

Kylo gives a snort, but turns back to his work. The panel gives a few offended jumps and shudders beneath Hux’s palms as he begins trying to drive a new set of screws through it. Hux can feel it rattling against the rusted ones beneath it with every turn. He sees before he feels it jerk towards his opposite hand, hears himself suck in a gasp as the flesh at the base of his thumb blossoms red. Beneath him, Kylo stutters in surprise as a few warm droplets spatter down onto his cheek.

 

Hux reels back, cursing, but Kylo already has one set of fingers ringed around his wrist, squeezing, almost bruising.

 

“Stop, just stop.” Kylo orders, nearly dragging Hux to his feet, “Kitchen.”

 

Hux stumbles along behind him as the sting begins to set in. His mind whirrs at the sight of Kylo’s blood streaked face, the unbelievable control that his force exerts over Hux’s arm, shoulder, body. He can feel his face growing red as Kylo shoves his palm under the faucet and throws on the tap. Then he’s hissing, taking the inside of his cheek between his teeth.

 

“It’s not bad.” Kylo tells him as he examines him, “Faces and hands just bleed more.”

 

“You’re an idiot.” Hux manages, voice small and tight.

 

“Fuck you.” Kylo swipes, although with little force behind it.

 

Hux schools his features impassive, forces his breathing back into rhythm, “If I get sick, it’s your fault.” He says.

 

“Maybe lockjaw would finally shut you up.” Kylo is fumbling in the cabinet above the sink. When he finally produces a first aid kit from inside it, the blue and white plastic looks brittle. The font on it reminds Hux of the magazine ads from his youth.

 

“Is that even safe?” He asks with one brow lifted, “It has to be thirty years old.”

 

“You want to just bleed in the lawn?” Kylo shoots back.

 

Hux sighs. Kylo, his grip on his wrist still just as firm, guides Hux’s hand out from beneath the water. A few pieces of quickly unwrapped gauze serve to wipe away enough of the remaining blood to allow a cleansing pad to adhere, and then Kylo is bandaging the area with hands so efficient and sure that Hux has to wonder where he so badly needed the knowledge.

 

“...Thanks.” He manages after a long moment.

 

Kylo glances up at him over their hands, eyes wide and so dark, and then his lips tighten as he jerks a small nod.

 

***

 

The mattress of the twin bed in Hux’s room is lumpy from what Hux can only imagine is years of having to uphold Kylo’s huge, gawky teenage frame. There are still posters clinging to the walls by their ancient putty, bands that Hux doesn’t recognize with what he assumes are their lead singers casting performatively haunted glances down upon him. He begins to attempt to unpack his bags into the dresser, but finds it still full to bursting with ratty black tshirts and torn jeans. He refolds them correctly to make space for his things, still ginger with his wounded palm.

 

There’s a cd walkman on the dusty nightstand. He wonders what the cd inside it might sound like, but thinks better of disturbing it. The pads of its headphones look as if they might crumble if touched.

 

He should be surprised that the sheets still smell vaguely of him. He’s more surprised that he has any concept of what he smells like, wonders when in their trip he became so accustomed to Kylo’s presence. He stretches out in them, his best attempt at getting comfortable, then frowns. From the marsh behind the house, a chorus of croaks and whistles patters through the humid air.

 

“Hux.”

 

He jumps at Kylo’s sudden presence in the doorway. Kylo is squinting in the light from the bedroom, his own still dark across the hall.

 

“What?” Hux hisses, and only then realizes that his lowered voice is unnecessary.

 

“Switch rooms with me.” Kylo’s voice is a whisper as well, and his shoulders are low.

 

“What?” Hux blinks, “Why?”

 

“Just do it.” Kylo insists.

 

“I’ve _just_ put away my things.” Hux protests.

 

“You can come in and get them when you need them, I don’t care.” Kylo presses, “Or move them in the morning. Whatever. Just switch with me.”

 

“Why?”

 

Kylo frowns, “I can’t sleep in there.”

 

“I don’t know how either of us are supposed to sleep in this heat.”

 

“Then go be awake in there. I can sleep in here.”

 

Hux lets out a groan, but slips out of bed nonetheless, “I’m not just leaving my things in here. I’ll move them first thing.” He stops himself just before _don’t touch anything._

 

Kylo rolls his eyes, “Fine. I’m not going to fuck with your things.”

 

“I didn’t say you were.” Hux counters, but flushes.

 

Kylo sinks down into the bed, filling the full breadth of it almost immediately, dark hair pillowing out behind him, and Hux turns away.

 

“...Good night.” He adds, and makes his way across the darkened hall when Kylo grumbles an affirmative.

 

He closes the door behind himself before he flips on the light. It’s a considerably older lamp, a dark, wooden monstrosity with an amber tinted glass lampshade from god knows where in the seventies. A beaten brown jacket hangs over the corner of the door to the adjoining bathroom. The top of the dresser is a mess of loose change, knick knacks, and rumpled receipts.

 

“Oh.” Hux murmurs to himself.

 

The bed is still made, as if Kylo had never quite gotten the nerve to even properly lay in it. Hux draws back the covers, then perches at the edge of it, hesitant himself to disturb the memory of a man he’s never even met. The sheets are threadbare, almost a relief in the smothering night. He drapes one over himself and slowly sinks into the pillows. It feels like laying himself down into the dust of a foreign planet.

 

***

The couch in the living room beside the kitchen is a faded orange-gold plaid. Its cushions are nearly flat, and when Hux had first lowered himself down onto it, he had felt one of the springs inside it jutting up into his thigh. Now, an hour or so into reviewing his next case, he thinks he’s found the least unpleasant position on it, an awkward sort of diagonal from the arm out towards the middle- and least worn- cushion.

 

He can hear Kylo grit out a sigh from the kitchen. A few papers shuffle on the kitchen table, and Hux is certain he can make out what must be the hundredth murmured, ‘ _fuck_ ’ of the morning.

 

“Oh come on, c _ertified_ copies? Where the hell?” Kylo groans to himself, and Hux bites his bottom lip.

 

Hux had awoken to the scent of coffee brewing early, had padded down the hallway to the kitchen to find Kylo already sprawled out in a mess of documents and old mail, scribbling hasty post-its with phone numbers and accounts and attaching them, piecemeal, to each pile. It’s nearly noon, and from the sound of it, Kylo is barely further along in sorting his father’s affairs than he was when Hux had first slipped by him.

 

“The funeral home can get them.” Hux chances, mock off-the-cuff.

 

“Huh?” Kylo calls back from the kitchen.

 

“Death certificates, certified? The funeral home will pull them from the state for you if you ask.”

 

Kylo appears in the doorway, slouched, lips drawn, “How do you know?”

 

Hux gives a faint shrug, “I was my father’s executor.”

 

Kylo watches him for a long moment, “...Oh.”

 

Hux lifts his eyes from his paperwork. Kylo’s face is almost colorless, save for the purple beneath his eyes. Hux frowns and rises. He steps out from behind the coffee table, then moves towards the kitchen, plucking the stack of bills and notices from Kylo’s hand as he passes by.

 

“Nnh?” Kylo manages.

 

Hux rolls his eyes, “I’m not going to listen to you grumble and curse all day.” He tells him as he pulls out a chair at the table and drops down into it.

 

Kylo regards him, lips pinched, for nearly a minute before he returns to the table and sinks down beside him.

 

“What’s this pile?” Hux begins, tapping at it with a fingertip.

 

“Credit stuff.” Kylo says after a breath.

 

Hux arches an eyebrow, “Credit ‘stuff’?”

 

“Bills. Statements. Whatever.”

 

Hux huffs, “Well, then. Let’s get them sorted correctly.”

 

***

 

Hux is squinting over the paperwork by the time that Kylo finally grows too impatient to press onward. It takes a few fingers squeezing deep into his bicep to pry him, still ranting and cursing, off the phone with a creditor.

 

“Well.” Hux breathes, “That was certainly a very creative choice of adjectives.”

 

He feels the fire go out of Kylo underneath his fingers, and then Kylo is slouching back in his seat with a shuddering sigh.

 

“I hate them.” He murmurs.

 

Hux lifts his brows, “A fairly common sentiment, I think.”

 

Kylo leans forward once more, pushing himself up out of the chair with sudden vigor, “Let’s get out of here.” He says.

 

“It’s eight o’clock, is there anywhere open to go?” Hux muses.

 

Kylo thinks a moment, then shrugs, “A few places.”

 

Hux stretches as he rises from his chair. His knees give an indignant pop, and he winces. Kylo rolls his eyes.

 

“What are you, thirty-something?” He asks.

 

Hux sniffs, “Thirty four.”

 

“You’ll live.”

 

The drive takes nearly a half hour, and most of the roads are silent, unlit rivers through winding countryside, interrupted only by the stomach-tightening appearance of sudden headlights around sharp bends. Save for giving directions, Kylo watches the scenery flow by without a word. Eventually, a puddle of light appears along the side of the road, a tiny oasis in the dark.

 

“There.” Kylo motions.

 

Hux pulls the car into the dusty gravel parking lot. Above the squat rectangular building’s vinyl-ribbed roofing, flickering neon lights spell out ‘Landry’s Dairyette’, or occasionally, Hux notes wryly, ‘Land y’s D  ry tte’.

 

“Are you sure this is where you meant to bring me?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder at Kylo.

 

“Shut up.” Kylo says simply in place of an answer, and then he’s holding the aged glass door open for Hux to pass through.

 

Hux purses his lips, then steps inside, the faded cardboard ‘Open’ sign tapping against the door as Kylo ducks in behind him. The lights against the polished wood floor give the entire place a yellowish glow, furthered by the red vinyl booths up against one wall. A line of worn but clean silver stools are bolted into the floor in front of a small tabletop area. Just behind it is a tall plastic shield that separates patrons from wells of colorful toppings. With the quiet shuffle of motown playing over the speakers, Hux distantly wonders if he’s unwittingly stepped backwards in time.

 

“C’mon.” Kylo says beside him, nudging him towards the counter with one elbow, “On me.”

 

Something he can’t quite name traps Hux’s snide remark about the meager cost of ice cream on his tongue, and instead, he steps into line behind Kylo. The girl behind the counter looks to be about sixteen, and she serves them both with the same disinterested smile Hux remembers wearing at her age.

 

“Thank you.” Hux offers as Kylo hands him his dish.

 

Kylo gives one shoulder’s worth of a shrug, “You- yeah.”

 

“I what?” Hux questions, sliding into one of the booths.

 

Kylo rolls his eyes and busies himself with flicking through the selections on the tabletop jukebox. Hux watches him for a moment, then tucks into his ice cream. It’s richer than he expects, and, to his surprise, not cloyingly sweet.

 

“They make it.” Kylo explains upon seeing his face. He motions towards the doorway behind the counter, where Hux can see the hints of silver machinery around the corner, “Back there.”

 

“It’s good.” Hux notes.

 

One of the corners of Kylo’s lips pricks up. He smiles down into his own dish, and for a few seconds, they’re silent again. Then, still not lifting his eyes, he speaks up again, “...Hey, thanks.”

 

Hux looks up to him, “Hm?”

 

“For today. All the-” Kylo makes a swirling gesture, “-ridiculous bullshit. Handling it.”

 

“Come now, I wouldn’t entirely call you ‘ridiculous bullshit’.” Hux quips with a quirk in his lips.

 

“Fuck you.” Kylo shoots back, but it skims over the lilt of a chuckle.

 

Hux allows himself a small smirk. Across from him, Kylo leans back against the vinyl of the booth seat.

 

“Why do you do it, anyway?” He asks.

 

Hux cocks his head slightly, “Do what?”

 

“All of this. The whole supervisor thing.” Kylo continues, “You hate it.”

 

Blinking, Hux straightens, “I don’t.”

 

Kylo rolls his eyes, “Whatever. Why do you do it?”

 

Hux’s lips thin, “It’s lucrative.” He tells him, “The hours are reasonable. I’m a capable personnel manager.”

 

Kylo grins, rakish, seeming for the first time at home in his surroundings, “You hate it.”

 

“That’s an awfully bold assumption.”

 

“You don’t get anywhere in prison by being subtle.”

 

“No, I suppose not.” Hux concedes.

 

Kylo’s brows knit, and his gaze shifts to the window, out over the dark strip of road just outside the dairyette, “Anything you have to go to college for is a scam anyway.”

 

Hux nearly laughs, “And just how is that?”

 

“They just want your money. Your name, your prestige. They don’t care about you.” Kylo says.

 

“Is that so?”

 

Kylo glances at him for a long moment, and then his eyes drop to his cup, “He was my professor, you know.”

 

Hux blinks, “I’m sorry?”

 

“Snoke.” Kylo looks to him once more, “You read my file.”

 

Hux smoothes the surprise off of his features quickly, “Ah. I see.”

 

“I got in trouble for fighting. Got kicked out of housing. He let me stay at his place. Just a little shithole above the garage.” Kylo continues, “He said I was something special. That I just needed guidance.”

 

The corner of Hux’s mouth twitches, “Did you?”

 

Kylo frowns, and he snorts, “I don’t know. I never lived up to what he wanted from me.” Hux sees the line of his shoulders tighten, “Big fucking surprise.”

 

“What did he want?” Hux asks.

 

“I don’t-” Kylo lets out a frustrated huff, “He- everything. All the grunt work. Perfect grades. For me to not waste any time trying to have friends. For me to talk to him. For me to shut up and be invisible until somebody else praised him about me. I don’t fucking know.”

 

Hux draws a low breath. Something is drawn in his chest, and Brendol’s words float to his lips,  “A worthy successor.”

 

Kylo gives a mirthless chuckle, “A show dog.”

 

Hux leans back in his seat, “So you, what, mowed him down?” He offers darkly.

 

“It wasn’t like that.” Kylo tells him with a scowl, “It was at one of his stupid social affairs. Some chamber music evening. He loved anything that made him feel elevated.” He says.

 

“I assume you didn’t share his sentiments.” Hux offers.

 

“I was drunk. I was always drunk at his parties. He-” Kylo exhales sharply through his nose, and his hands fist on the tabletop, “He embarrassed me. Told all of these highbrow donors that I wouldn’t know a whoever’s quartet from a whoever else’s. That I was so _simple_ , that they couldn’t expect something like that from someone like me. They all fucking laughed at me. Over and over, all night. It was always like that. He wanted me to be perfect and then told me I was garbage.”

 

Hux’s lips thin into a line, “I’m familiar with the idea.”

 

“I just wanted to leave. I-” Kylo frowns to himself, “I made a scene, telling him. He made me drive so he could berate me in the car. And I-” There are splotches of red high in his cheeks now, and his jaw is tense around the words, “I couldn’t. I couldn’t drive. I was drunk and so- so fucked up, and he was just there screaming, _screaming_ at me how fucking pathetic I was, and I couldn’t breathe, and we- I hit a guard rail.” Kylo lets out a long breath and slumps against the booth seat, “He didn’t make it.”

 

Hux searches Kylo’s face, his mouth, his hands, all of him, for a hint of it before his morbid curiosity can no longer be contained, “...Did you mean to?”

 

Kylo won’t meet his gaze, eyes fixed, unseeing, to the window,  “I don’t know.” He says quietly, “It was so sudden. Maybe I did. I don’t know.”

 

The space of a breath passes between them. Hux looks into the melting dregs of his ice cream, purses his lips, “...I would have.”

 

Kylo blinks, jerks to look at him, “Huh?”

 

“Meant it. Or at least I would have wanted to.” Hux continues, “It sounds as if he strove to deserve it.”

 

“I-” Kylo gives a startled, breathless laugh, “...He was. Unbearable.”

 

“So it would seem.” Hux arches an eyebrow.

 

“...Thanks.” Kylo says quietly after a few seconds pass.

 

Hux gives a minute nod. There’s another brief silence, and then he speaks, “This job. You asked why.” His jaw firms as Kylo looks up to him, “It’s because I’m a worthy successor.” He tells him simply.

 

Kylo’s dark eyes soften. Atop the table, one of his hands flexes briefly, as if to close the distance between them, but he draws it back after a moment, settling instead for a slow nod.

 

“Well, then.” Hux straightens, squaring his shoulders with a thin smile, “A toast to absent friends, mm?”

 

***

 

Kylo grits his teeth and undoes his tie for the third time, “Damnit.” He murmurs.

 

“Just let me do it.”

 

He glances back over his shoulder to see Hux in the doorway, his own suit and tie already immaculate, shirt and slacks clearly pressed. Kylo frowns.

 

“I know how to tie a tie.” He grunts.

 

Hux rolls his eyes, “Fine, then. I’ll wait in the car.”

 

“We can’t take the car.” Kylo tells him.

 

Hux pauses, “...What? Are we meant to walk?”

 

Kylo huffs a sigh, “No. They want me to bring folding tables to the fire hall for the reception. They won’t fit in the car.”

 

“Then what are we-”

 

“They’re in the basement. I’ll throw them in the truck. The keys’ll be in the footwell. It’s not far.” Kylo says.

 

Hux gapes, “And you were planning to tell me about this-?”

 

Kylo gives him a hint of a grin, “What, are you scared of driving it?”

 

“Is it an automatic?”

 

Kylo rolls his eyes, “Of course not.”

 

Hux winces, “I don’t know how to drive a manual.”

 

“Aren’t you English? Doesn’t everyone over there drive stick?” Kylo says.

 

“We moved when I was eleven, I learned here!” Hux snaps.

 

Kylo pauses, “...Shit.” He bites his lip, “...Tie my tie, I’ll drive.”

 

“There’s no way I’m letting you drive.” Hux counters as he crosses the room and loops his arms around either side of Kylo’s chest, “It’s not even in the terms of your-”

 

“We don’t have time.” Kylo pushes. He feels himself go still as Hux’s slender fingers fix the tie around his throat in a few short, practiced motions, “We came here for the funeral.” He continues when Hux takes a step back, “We’re not missing it because I have to give you driving lessons.”

 

Cringing, Hux pinches the bridge of his nose, “...Fine. Once. Neither of us ever mention it to the board.”

 

Kylo gives a short nod. Within a few minutes, the folding tables, their legs only mostly rusted, are slung into the back of the truck. When Kylo slides into the cab, Hux’s hands are fisted on his knees.

 

“Go the speed limit.” He orders, “Not a single mile above. Do you understand?”

 

Kylo rolls his eyes, “It’s six and a half miles.”

 

“Then I expect we’ll have plenty of time to adhere to the letter of the law.” Hux grates in return.

 

“Whatever.” Kylo huffs. The truck chokes and sputters as he turns the key, and he gives it an extra twist to encourage it to spark to life. The clutch is loose, but Kylo leans back and punches it at just the right angle, and then they’re off, “Piece of junk.” He murmurs beneath his breath.

 

The roads to the church twist and weave between copses of trees and the muddy banks of encroaching swamp. Kylo swings the truck around each bend with eyes almost unseeing, the route into the center of town more in his hands than in his conscious mind. Almost before he realizes it, they’re in the parking lot.

 

“Ben!” Rey is trotting up to the truck before either of them have unbuckled their seatbelts. She pauses at seeing Kylo in the driver’s side, and he offers her a sheepish smile.

 

“Don’t say anything to my Mom.” He tells her.

 

She shoots a glance at Hux through the cab, one brow arched, but nods, “No worries.” Then, her hand is in the crook of Kylo’s elbow, and her voice is soft, “You all right?”

 

He frowns faintly, “I’m fine.” He tells her.

 

“Are you saying anything at tributes?” She asks as the three of them make their way towards the doors.

 

“What?”

 

“Informal tributes. It’s not a formal eulogy, it’s - they didn’t ask you?” She questions.

 

Kylo’s lips purse, “Why would they ask me?”

 

“Ben.” She protests quietly, squeezing his arm.

 

“Don’t bother.” He murmurs and shifts out of her grip to pass into the building.

 

They remain towards the back of the sanctuary, Kylo skulking into the last row on the far left. Rey pinches her lips, but huffs a sigh and takes a seat beside him, and Hux sinks down on her other side. The organist is already playing, something smooth and serene that Kylo is certain Han would have mocked even on the best of days. The programs are a single folded sheet. His father’s picture, younger than Kylo ever knew him, grins at him from the front of it, rakish, with his “uncle” Chewie - yet another found relative - towering, all wild beard and heavy brows, behind him. Kylo frowns and turns the pamphlet over on the pew.

 

The church grows fuller as the minutes drag past, five minutes past the scheduled starting time, then ten, fifteen. The voices of the crowd become a dull buzz. Kylo ducks his head, buries himself in scrolling through Facebook on his phone each time that a familiar face steps into the hall. When the steady flow of attendees slows to a trickle, Chewie is the last through the door. He closes it behind himself and makes his way to the front pew. Kylo strenuously observes a stained glass window as he passes.

 

He can feel himself drifting as the service begins. The words flow past him, slow and without meaning, and he feels sour just beneath the skin, oddly yielding. His hands are foreign when he looks down at them. His mouth won’t set right. He blunders his way through responsive readings, hymns that he knows Han would never have chosen. He can’t imagine Han ever considering his own mortality, ever even admitting to the possibility. Like a cat, flexible, cunning, wriggling free, always with one last trick. Something is heavy in the pit of Kylo’s stomach, and suddenly his throat feels thick. Constricted. Fuck.

 

This is nothing. He hasn’t even laid eyes on the man in seven years. Eight? Long enough. It’s not as if Han was a father. Not a real father. Kylo purses his lips, swallows. Just passing through. Just a footnote, less than nothing. This is nothing.

 

Lando is at the lectern, now. Kylo’s knuckles whiten in his lap.

 

“Han was more than a friend to many of us.” Lando is saying, “He was the rebellious hope that lived in all of us. The idea that we might just end up being more than we thought we could be.”

 

Kylo tastes copper in his mouth and recognizes the stinging sensation in his lower lip a few seconds later. He hurries to wipe the blood away with the cuff of his jacket. He can feel Rey’s eyes on him, knows without looking just the way they soften, the worried quirk of her brow. But Lando is calling her up to speak next, and Kylo is stumbling out of the pew to give her space to get by. She touches his arm as she passes, and all at once he’s ducking his head as he storms down the aisle, shoves through the doors out into the hall, and then through the next set and out into the parking lot. Into the truck, where he’s dragging the set of gold dice down from the mirror and hurling them out into the gravel. Slamming his fists against the steering wheel. Howling, wordless, formless. And then slumping, at last, his chest searing as if it’s full of buckshot, down into his arms.

 

***

 

“Were you out here the entire time?” Rey asks as she pulls open the creaking driver’s side door.

 

Kylo glances up at her, lips pursed, “So?”

 

“You-” She frowns, crosses her arms, “I can’t believe you missed it.”

 

“I didn’t miss it.” He snaps, “Just part of it.” He looks past her, just over her shoulder, to where Hux stands silent, his light brows lifted, “Get in.” He orders.

 

Hux’s lips thin for a moment, but he obeys. Beside the door, Rey has her hands on her hips.

 

“You’re going to the reception.” She tells him.

 

“I know I’m going to the fucking reception.” He groans.

 

“I’m following right behind you.”

 

“Fucking follow me, then!” Kylo bites off, seizing the door and slamming it before she can reply.

 

Hux’s fingers are knit in his lap, his jaw tight, as Kylo pulls out of the parking lot.

 

“Shut up.” Kylo says before he can speak.

 

Hux arches a brow, “I didn’t say anything.”

 

“Then just _shut up_.” Kylo barks.

 

He can hear Hux exhale a thin breath through his nose, but they make it to the VFW hall without another word. Rey pulls in behind them a moment later and begins unloading trays of cookies from her rented car. Kylo nearly throws the tables from the bed of the truck, drags them into the hall and drops them unceremoniously on the floor.

 

“Hey, now.” Lando is just stepping through the doors after Hux, “Careful, kid.”

 

Kylo glowers up at him.

 

“I’ve got them.” Lando tells him, one palm lifted towards him, palliative, “Go take a load off. Get yourself a drink or something. There’s plenty in the kitchen.”

 

“...Fine.” Kylo grunts.

 

Hux watches him go, then kneels to begin unfolding the tables with Lando, “Thank you.” He murmurs.

 

“Not a problem.” Lando offers him a smile, “Known the kid a long time.”

 

“So it would seem.”

 

“How long you two known one another?” Lando asks as they right the first of the tables.

 

Hux dusts off the surface of it with one palm, “Just a few days.”

 

Lando pauses with his hands on the second, glancing up to him, “Huh?”

 

Hux purses his lips, “I’m here to assist in a supervisory capacity.” He says delicately.

 

“...Oh.” Lando is blinking, “I thought you two were-”

 

“We’re not.” Hux cuts him off. He can feel his cheeks darkening and squares his jaw.

 

“Too bad.” Lando shrugs.

 

Before Hux has a chance to ask him what precisely he means to imply, there’s a clattering from the kitchen, a string of curses. His spine stiffens, and he looks towards the clamor only to see Kylo thrown backwards through the doorway. He skids across the hall floor for a few seconds, a long-limbed ragdoll, until he gets his bearings and stumbles to his feet with a snarl. Storming out after him is an enormous bearded man that Hux recognizes as one of the attendants at the funeral.

 

“Chewie!” Rey is yelling from the kitchen, and when she emerges, she seizes him by one elbow with both arms, “Stop it!”

 

“So what if I left?!” Kylo growls, hands fisting at his sides, “So what?!”

 

Hux curses beneath his breath, and a few quick strides carry him to Kylo’s side, “That’s enough.”

 

“Oh, shit.” Lando is breathing behind them.

 

Kylo moves to advance, and Hux seizes the back of his jacket with both hands, “No.” He orders, “No, no, no. Kylo, your board review.”

 

“I don’t give a fuck.” Kylo spits, guttural.

 

Rey is digging her heels into the ground, “Chewie, please, leave it alone.”

 

“Both of you stop.” Lando demands, stepping between them, “We’re not having a fight here.” He turns to Chewie, “You. He’s still his kid. Back off. And you-” He wheels back to Kylo, “Go cool off.”

 

“He fucking said I-” Kylo protests

 

Hux grips his arm, “It doesn’t matter.”

 

Chewie is still glaring at Kylo over all three of them, silent but for his labored breathing. For a moment, Hux thinks that he might take another swipe at him as he struggles to pull him backwards. Kylo’s curls hang in his face, disheveled, and he shoves a hand back through them before he finally takes a single step back.

 

“We’re leaving.” He grates, and without another word, he turns on one heel and makes for the door.

 

Hux trots after him, teeth gritted, “What in the world was all that?” He hisses once they’re back in the truck.

 

Kylo, hands shaking, struggles to shove the key into the ignition, “He said I was fucking- that I was- that he would have been _embarrassed_ that I left, that I-I-”

 

“Kylo, stop.” Hux commands quietly and moves to take the key from his fingers.

 

Kylo yanks it back with a snarl, color splotched over his pallid face, and when he snaps his gaze to Hux, his eyes are rimmed red and glassy, “Fuck off. We’re going home.”

 

“Now? Like this?” Hux clips, “That’s hardly-”

 

The key is finally crammed into the ignition, and Kylo jerks the truck to life with a vicious twist, “Shut up.”

 

Hux scrabbles for his seatbelt as they shriek out of the parking lot, “Slow down!” He barks.

 

“Shut _up!_ ” Kylo repeats, his knuckles white on the wheel.

 

“You’re going to kill the both of us.” Hux snaps, “And _fighting?_ Are you mad? I’m going to have to write a formal report for the board, they’re going to have to-”

 

“I said _shut the fuck up!_ ” Kylo roars.

 

“I will not!” Hux fumes as they thunder down the winding roads back towards the house, “I’ll not tolerate this sort of tantrum, this sort of behavior is utterly unacceptable, do you understand? I’m not a servant, and I’m not one of your terrified relatives, I’m not going to let you just-”

 

“ _God damnit!_ ” Kylo slams both hands on the steering wheel and whirls to look at him.

 

Hux feels a thud beneath him as the truck jerks over the edge of the road. He can feel the blood thrill up into his temples as he gasps. His limbs are almost unreal as he splays, slow, somehow incomprehensibly slow, to brace himself. He can hear Kylo’s stuttered cry beside him at a distance, and then his body is whipped forward and jerks against the belt as they come to rest, heavy and sudden, halfway into a drainage ditch.

 

There’s a moment of silence as both of them pant for breath. Then, Kylo nearly howls a groan.

 

“You’re fucking kidding me.” He exclaims.

 

“A-Are you all right?” Hux stammers.

 

Kylo slouches forward over the wheel, “We can’t call the cops.”

 

“What?!”

 

“I’m not supposed to be driving!” Kylo moans, “They’ll-”

 

Hux pinches the bridge of his nose, “I’m going to be fired.”

 

“No.” Kylo is struggling to unbuckle himself, “No, no no, we can- we’ll rock the truck out.”

 

Hux nearly laughs, “ _What?_ ”

 

“Get out.” Kylo grunts, “Get out of the truck. We’ll rock it out. Nobody ever comes by this way, no one will see us.”

 

“You can’t be serious.”

 

“Do you have a better idea?” Kylo bites.

 

“I-”

 

“Do you want to keep your fucking job or not?”

 

Hux winces, “I swear to God-”

 

Kylo is already shucking his jacket and tie, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, “Just help me push.”

 

Hux glares after him as he rounds the truck. Slowly, carefully, he extricates himself from the seatbelt, then removes his own tie and blazer, hanging them both over the passenger seat. He smooths the wrinkles from the jacket with his fingertips before he wedges himself through the small space that the door allows him between the car and the lip of the ditch.

 

“This is never going to work.” He sighs.

 

“It’ll work.” Kylo insists from behind the truck. He’s digging in the bed, gives a cold, triumphant laugh when he produces a length of 2x4, “We might be able to get some leverage.”

 

“That’s absurd.” Hux fires back. He can still hear the blood rushing in his ears, “We’re going to need a tow truck.”

 

Kylo scowls at him as he passes on the way to the front bumper, “What, are you scared to get your hands dirty?”

 

Hux balls his fists and storms after him, “Not all of us are some sort of monstrous brute.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kylo huffs as he struggles to wedge the beam between the truck tire and the soggy earth.

 

Hux snorts wordlessly.

 

“You take this.” Kylo motions to the board, then lines up one shoulder against the back of the truck, “You know how to move it?”

 

“I know what a lever is!” Hux snaps.

 

“Then do it!” Kylo flares back and surges forward.

 

Hux grits his teeth. He can feel his wingtips begin to fill with muddy water as he leans his weight into the beam. He shoves down against it until he’s panting, red-faced, and he can hear Kylo grunting as he drives himself into the truck. The metal gives a creak of protest.

 

“Harder.” Kylo commands, “You have to lift it a little more.”

 

“I’m pushing as hard as I can!” Hux protests.

 

Kylo draws himself up once more, nearly skids in the inches of mud beneath them as he does. Hux straightens, scowling at him.

 

“Again.” Kylo says.

 

“It’s not going to-”

 

“ _Again._ ” Kylo insists and throws himself back into the task.

 

Hux pistons himself down again. The mud is creeping up the hems of his pants, now, and he can feel it soaking into his ankles through his socks. In the sprawling branches of the magnolia tree beside the road, the call of the cicadas is becoming a roar in his ears, in his blood. He growls.

 

They dig themselves into the silt, scraping and straining, for what feels like hours. Hux’s palms cry out in protest against the wood, his back tight, face flecked with mud and sweat. He smears his hands over his brow between attempts, struggles to catch his breath.

 

“Again.” Kylo orders after every salvo, and Hux can feel his skin buzzing with rage.

 

The trucks lurches an inch or two at a time, sometimes forwards, sometimes back. They try it with their positions reversed. With both pushing the bumper directly. With Kylo’s shoulder digging up at an angle. Hux chews his lip open.

 

“Just a little bit more.” Kylo urges.

 

Hux has both arms up around the board, is dragging it down with the full brunt of his weight. His face is ruddy, hair plastered to his temples.

 

“Come on!” Kylo snaps.

 

“I _am!_ ”

 

Kylo gives a hiss, twists up into the bumper, “Fucking-... _sure_ you are.”

 

Before Hux can reply, the truck nudges up a handful of centimeters, then jerks backward just as quickly. The board is wrenched from his hands, strikes him along the underside of the jaw as it’s pitched into the mud. He lets out a furious yelp.

 

“Oh, come on!” Kylo groans.

 

Hux stares, one hand clutching his already bruising face. For a moment, he stammers for words, and then, with the muscles in his shoulders screaming, he brings the other hand, flat and knuckles first, squarely across Kylo’s cheek. Kylo’s eyes are wide, and then he’s sneering, shoving Hux’s shoulders back against the truck. Hux hears the sound that his body makes when it slams into the metal before he feels it.

 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Kylo is panting, his face hovering a hair’s breadth from Hux’s.

 

“Piss off.” Hux chokes out in return.

 

The invectives hang in the air between them, electric. Hux can hear his own pulse, almost imagines that he can hear Kylo’s as well. There’s a smudge of mud on Kylo’s cheek, just beneath his eye, turning one of the dark flecks on his skin into a long smear.

 

He’s not sure who moves. Suddenly, his fingers are fisted in handfuls of Kylo’s dark curls, their mouths crushed against one another in a savage fury of lips and teeth. Their fingertips leave smears of mud in their wake as they claw at one another. Kylo’s broad body is pinning him to the tailgate of the truck. Hux tightens his fists and yanks. Kylo shudders.

 

“F-Fuck you.” He’s hissing into Hux’s mouth, and before Hux can reply he seals his lips over his anew.

 

Hux thrashes and struggles for purchase in the mud, against Kylo’s enormous frame, the heat of his body. He bites down on Kylo’s bottom lip, shivers at the taste of blood as it blossoms on his tongue. Kylo seizes his wrists, and Hux’s knuckles clang up against the tailgate as Kylo fixes him there.

 

“Beast.” Hux breathes and jerks in his grip. It’s iron, less yielding than iron. Hux’s cock twitches in the leg of his slacks.

 

Kylo parts his legs with the meat of one thigh. Hux nearly whimpers aloud, and his hips pitch down into the sudden friction. He can feel Kylo straining up against his hip, thick, and curses beneath his breath.

 

Hux sucks in a desperate breath, “We sh-”

 

“Don’t.” Kylo snaps, and then his teeth are scraping over the pulse point just beneath Hux’s ears.

Hux’s fingers curl. He squirms beneath Kylo’s grip until Kylo obligingly releases one of his wrists. Free to return fire, Hux finds his way beneath the hem of Kylo’s shirt and digs his nails into the plane of one shoulder. Kylo’s shivers, and for his part, he lifts the slender wrist still encircled in his fingers and slams it, possessive, back against the truck once more. Hux feels his grip tighten, feels the delicacy of his own bones beneath Kylo’s strength, and his knees buckle.

 

Kylo’s free hand is splaying out behind him, searching, and Hux jumps as he hears him find the tailgate switch. Kylo draws him up against himself as it falls open.

 

“Wh-” Hux manages, and then Kylo has him by the hair and the power of speech leaves him entirely.

 

His cheek and chest are pressed down over the tailgate, Kylo’s grip inescapable, and Hux shudders with pleasure. He claws for purchase in the gritty bed of the truck and gasps when he feels Kylo’s other hand clutch one of his sharp hips. Kylo pulls him back up against him without a hint of effort.

 

He’s going to fuck him. He’s going to fuck him right here, in some godforsaken muddy ditch in the middle of nowhere. This convict, this nobody, this brutish stray. Taking him like he’s nothing, like he’s less than nothing. Using him. All of Hux’s work, all of his studied poise, meaningless against the entitlement of Kylo’s superior strength and the howl of his crude, base need. Hux’s pulse is pounding in his chest.

 

“Oh my god.” He hears himself whimper, distant and undone. He can feel himself slick and leaking against the front of his slacks.

 

Kylo’s hands are at his belt. Hux goes motionless, breath caught in his throat. A few moments pass, and Hux hears the buckle fall undone. The zipper on his slacks follows, and then Kylo’s long hand is shoving down beneath them, and his calloused fingers are wrapping around Hux’s straining cock. Hux lets out a groan.

 

“Oh, fuck.” Kylo hisses between his teeth behind him.

 

He pistons him slow and tight, his grip quickly slick with Hux’s own eagerness. Hux is choking back gored exclamations in his own shoulder. His toes curl and his hips buck into Kylo’s excruciating rhythm. Each time that he pushes through his cinched fingers is agony.

 

“Hux.” Kylo exhales, grazing the nape of his neck with his teeth.

 

“Please.” Hux is appalled to find himself panting as he squirms back against him.

 

Kylo shudders and releases him. Hux hears the clink of his belt buckle as he rucks down his slacks to free himself. Then, his hands are on him again, and Hux arches back up into him.

 

“Wait.” Kylo’s breathe is warm against the shell of his ear.

 

The blunt head of his cock presses into the space between Hux’s thighs, already slippery with trails of his own precome, and Hux gives a stilted gasp. Just the weight of it, sliding up between his legs, electrifies the nerves beneath his skin. Kylo gives a cursory thrust and Hux splays forward onto the tailgate.

 

He hears Kylo’s breath hitch. His fingers loop around Hux’s cock once more, working him in rhythm with his own motions. Blood rushes in Hux’s ears. His stomach, where his shirt has been rucked up by their movements, is growing raw from bucking against the dusty tailgate. He can feel the warmth of his own labored panting up against the metal.

 

His thighs are trembling. Something just below his navel tightens, and then Kylo’s grasp at the base of his cock is all at once merciless. Hux yelps, whimpering and writhing, seized just at the precipice of climax. His chest jerks in anguish, and, finding himself unable to fully voice his discontent, he settles for clawing his nails down the bed of the truck.

 

“Wait.” Kylo repeats, heavier this time.

 

He spits - _spits!_ \- into his opposite hand, and Hux stares back over his shoulder in fury, horror, and, his cheeks grow ruddy at realizing, tremulous, desperate need. Kylo leans down to mouth at the nape of his neck as he reaches between Hux’s legs to slick himself.

 

“Shut up.” He murmurs against the thin skin.

 

Hux manages a strangled whine as Kylo lines himself up. Then, within the space of a breath, he’s pushing into him, and Hux’s knees pitch. He swears down into one of his arms, bites down on his wrist to dampen a broken moan. Kylo, his breath speeding, grips the back of one of Hux’s thighs, and - Hux’s pulse thrills - manhandles the inside of his knee up onto the tailgate to spread him open wider, shove into him deeper. Hux lets out a gutted cry as Kylo finally finds room for himself inside him.

 

It’s ruthless, the way that Kylo uses his body to seal him against the truck so utterly, the way that he holds him down, bruising him, taking what he wants from him, until Hux realizes that he’s begging, nearly sobbing for more, faster, _harder_ . The suspension of the truck creaks beneath the force of Kylo’s onslaught. Hux catches sight of his elbow, freshly bloodied from friction, his knee crooking behind them, thinks suddenly of the deer on the highway, jutting and ruined, in the back of the truck, imagines Kylo to _unmaking_ him with every powerful jerk of his hips. He’s cursing, screaming, ravaged, so covered in mud and dust and sweat that he feels barely human, that all he is is narrowed down to the sensations of Kylo’s cock splitting him apart and Kylo’s fingers keeping him quavering on the edge of decimation.

 

“Oh, fuck, Hux, I-I- _._ ” Kylo chokes out above him.

 

“ _Please_.” Hux feels the word wrenched out of his chest as if Kylo’s grip is on his lungs.

 

Kylo jerks forward, and Hux feels slick heat surge within him as Kylo cries out against the back of his shoulder. Oh god, he’s _coming in him._ Kylo’s fingers relent, and immediately Hux is bursting apart at the seams, wailing, scratching. Kylo’s body shudders and bucks in time with his, in time with the way that Hux can feel his own body traitorously wringing Kylo out inside of him.

 

“Oh, god,” Hux is gasping, shattered, “Oh god, _god_.”

 

The pain filters in as soon as the last shudders of it subside. Hux winces as Kylo withdraws from him, whimpers as he feels wet heat slither down the insides of both thighs in his wake.

 

They call a towing company. Hux quietly pays for their discretion in cash.

 

***

 

There’s mud and chipped paint beneath his nails. Hux hisses quietly to himself, scrabbles at it beneath the steaming flow of the shower. His skin is pink and sensitive, and still he finds new spatters of dirt every time that he pauses to survey himself. He seizes the yellowed bottle of soap from its perch for the fourth time and scrabbles fistfuls of suds over his body.

 

Once. Once, that’s it. Nothing more, no touching, no _looking_ any longer. Once. A single indiscretion that they can tacitly agree to forget. Hux winces as the water washes down over his chafed elbow. There will be no discussion.

 

He lets out a shaky breath. The gall of it. The absurdity. How dare he even imagine himself entitled to him like that? Hux is his _supervisor._ The muscles in his shoulders wail in protest as he reaches up to scrub at his hair. There are bruises on his hipbones, on his knuckles. On his throat.

 

Growling, Hux tangles his fingers in his hair and yanks. Don’t, don’t think of it. Once is all. An obscene lapse in judgement. A single mirage in the rippling heat. Once hand slides back between his legs and he nearly whimpers at the slick soreness that remains. He returns to the soap bottle.

 

***

The air in the house is still, heavy and wet like a damp cowl that clings to every surface. Kylo feels a bead of sweat trickle down the nape of his neck from one of the curls that has escaped the haphazard grip of his bun. He shuffles through one of the stacks of papers in front of him, then heaves a sigh. Across the table, Hux is sorting bills into a binder that Kylo has managed to dig out from under the bed in his old room. Kylo sees him wrinkle his nose at one of the scribbles on the inside cover as he works.

 

“What?” He arches an eyebrow.

 

“Nothing.” Hux sniffs.

 

“Come on.” Kylo prods.

 

“Your penmanship was appalling. Is appalling.” Hux tells him.

 

Kylo rolls his eyes, “Whatever.”

 

“Is this supposed to be a seven?” Hux lifts one of the sheafs of paper, one eyebrow arched.

 

“It’s a nine.” Kylo tells him.

 

“Earnestly?”

 

“What? It has the loop right there.” Kylo motions towards the paper.

 

Hux scoffs. Kylo offers him half a grin. Hux doesn’t return it.

 

“...What?” Kylo asks.

 

Hux sniffs in reply and returns to his task. Kylo’s brows furrow. He watches him for a long moment.

 

“Are you angry at me?” He questions.

 

“No.” Hux says. His eyes remain on his work.

 

“Can we just finish this tomorrow?” Kylo sighs as he leans back in his chair.

 

“It’s hardly noon.” Hux counters.

 

“Yeah, well, we could go somewhere. I don’t know. Get lunch.” Kylo offers.

 

“No.”

 

Kylo blinks, then scowls, “Fine, then, whatever. Work us both to death.”

 

“A true tale of woe.” Hux clips.

 

Kylo opens his mouth to reply, but a tinny ring interrupts. He jumps, eyes flicking around the kitchen for its source. On a desk near the door, one of Han’s old, battered coats is slouching off the edge. Kylo rises, crosses the room to lift it, and to his surprise, finds a phone beneath it.

 

“Is that a landline?” Hux muses.

 

Kylo lifts the receiver from the cradle curiously, “...Hello?”

 

“Hey, kid, just me.” Lando’s voice picks up on the other end, “Didn’t have your cell number. Thought I might get lucky calling the house.”

 

“Oh.” Kylo nods slowly.

 

“You two got plans for the day?” Lando asks.

 

Glancing across the kitchen, Kylo throws a small smirk towards Hux, “...No, no, we’re free.”

 

Hux looks up from the paperwork, blinking, then frowns and shakes his head.

 

“The whole day.” Kylo presses on, “Nothing planned.” Hux scowls.

 

“Well, that’s fantastic.” Lando continues, “I was just gonna’ take the boat out. Can I interest you two in making an afternoon of it?”

 

“On the lake? Sure.” Kylo tells him, eyes still on Hux, “We’d love that.”

 

Hux groans.

 

“Pick you up in an hour?” Lando offers.

 

“Perfect.”

 

***

 

The wind on the lake threatens to whip Hux’s hair from its carefully curated style. He leans back against the sloop’s rail, lips pursed, and smooths a hand back over it.

 

“Keep her from luffing.” Lando orders to Kylo as the mainsail begins to shudder.

 

Kylo grumbles and sets to trimming it. Hux slides to the side to allow him to pass beneath it without brushing against him. Kylo spares a glance up over one shoulder, brows knitting, but says nothing.

 

“You boys left the house this whole week? Besides the last time I saw you.” Lando is asking as he sinks down onto one of the benches opposite Hux.

 

“The estate is nearly sorted.” Hux tells him. He does his best not to flinch when Kylo perches beside him.

 

“So, no.” Kylo says, rolling his eyes.

 

Lando looks between them, then lets out a small chuckle. Color rises in Hux’s cheeks, but his schools his face impassive nonetheless.

 

Hux gives the railing of the boat a gentle tap, “She’s lovely.” He tries, “A J/22, if I’m not mistaken?”

 

Lando whistles, “Well, hello there, skipper.” He laughs, “You’re right, that’s my girl. She may not be big, but she’s still got a good day out in her.”

 

Kylo glances over at him, blinking, “You sail?”

 

Hux sniffs faintly and doesn’t meet his eyes, “I haven’t my own boat or anything.”

 

“Now, this kid-” Lando motions to Kylo, “-is one of the best I ever met, easy. Just as good as his Pop, maybe better. Han used to do the whole east coast, liveaboard, on a Catalina 38. He and Chewie.”

 

Kylo huffs, mutters, “To push, probably.”

 

Lando arches an eyebrow, “It was the seventies.”

 

“Loser.” Kylo grunts.

 

Lando frowns, “Han had his way of living. You’ve got yours. But he taught you like nobody else could’ve.” He looks back to Hux, “Did the whole tour with them for the first time when he was six, seven, something. And helped keep her trimmed, even then.” He grins, “Drove Leia crazy.”

 

Kylo swallows, looking out over the rail, and Hux finds himself nearly reaching for him. Kylo tugs the tie from his hair, rakes a few fingers through his curls against the wind before pulling them back again. His jaw tightens.

 

“Course, that never took much, did it?” Lando offers, and Kylo gives a narrow chuckle, “You were a hell of a kid.”

 

“Yeah, well, obviously they did such a great job.” Kylo snorts.

 

Lando sighs, “Well, listen.” He says, “I know you didn’t care much to come around here, even when Han was alive, but you know you still always have a place to come to if you need.”

 

“Yeah, well, Chewie said he’d kick my ass.” Kylo grouses.

 

“Chewie’ll get over it. You might as well be his own kid.”

 

Kylo swallows. Even from an inch or two, Hux can feel the tension along the line of his body. He watches him for a long moment, then gazes out over the lake.

 

“It’s about time to tack, mm?” He notes.

 

Lando looks up to the sails, then nods. Kylo gives him a grateful glance and takes the tiller.

 

***

 

  
“If you don’t put something on it, it’s going to blister.” Kylo tells him.

 

Hux presses his fingertips to his shoulder, winces as they leave momentarily pale pinpricks in the red skin, “Is there a pharmacy in town?” He asks, hissing softly.

 

“There’s yarrow in the backyard.” Kylo suggests.

 

“Yarrow?”

 

Kylo pushes his chair back from the kitchen table, rising, “You can make tea out of it. Soothes a sunburn.”

 

Hux sniffs, “Can’t we just get ointment?”

 

“The drugstore closes at six.” Kylo tells him.

 

Hux groans out a sigh. Kylo holds up a finger, then passes through the door to the backyard. He returns a few moments later with a handful of sprigs of small, white blossoms.

 

“Does this actually work?” Hux huffs as Kylo digs through the cupboards for a small pot.

 

Kylo glances at him, pursing his lips, his hand hovering over the tap of the kitchen sink, “Do you not want it?”

 

Hux watches him evenly for a few seconds, “...Fine.” He grumbles when Kylo defiantly holds his gaze.

 

Kylo gives a nod, quickly filling the pot, then disappearing into the backyard again. Hux can hear him struggling to light the grill, cursing, and lets his forehead fall into the seam of one palm. He touches his shoulder once more, silently attempting to will it back to its former pallor to no avail. At least it’s only the shoulders this time.

 

Kylo returns several minutes later with the now-steaming pot, which he places directly into the freezer, “Just...wait.” He tells Hux upon seeing his skeptical glance, “It just needs to cool down.”

 

“Mm.” Hux says noncommittally, rubbing at his temples and looking over the paperwork splayed out on the kitchen table for the seventh time that day.

 

“It’s almost done, right?” Kylo asks, “That’s what you said to Lando.”

 

“Almost.” Hux agrees.

 

Kylo leans back in his chair, heaves a sigh, “Thank God. I hate this hellhole.”

 

“You’ll still need to come back to finalize the sale, once it sells.” Hux points out.

 

“Fuck.” Kylo moans, smearing a hand over his face. He glances to Hux, “Are you going to come with me?”

 

Hux leans back a hint, “Why?”

 

“I’ll need a supervisor, right?” Kylo says.

 

“It depends on how long it takes to sell.” Hux tells him. Then, quietly, lips tight, “I’ll probably transfer your case, either way.”

 

Kylo blinks, “What? Why?”

 

Hux draws in a narrow breath through his nose, “It’s- it would be more professional to do so.” He can see a flicker of hope cross Kylo’s features, warring with the instinctual flash of anger he’s grown accustomed to.

 

“Because we-”

 

“Don’t.” Hux cuts him off, cringing, “I’d rather not discuss this.”

 

Kylo jerks back as if struck. His plush mouth works wordlessly, brows knitting, and then he stands, “Of course.” He grates, “Right, of course. Fine.”

 

Hux swallows a sigh as Kylo stalks back to the fridge. He pulls the tea from the freezer as if it’s personally wronged him, and then lets it clank onto the counter. From within one of the drawers, he produces a dishtowel. It gurgles faintly as he submerges it. He wrings it out until his knuckles whiten.

 

“Sit still.” He orders as he returns to the table.

 

Hux gives a small growl as Kylo shoves the damp towel to one of his shoulders, “Careful!” He snaps.

 

Kylo’s face softens into a frown, and he releases some of the pressure of his fingertips. A few rivulets of the tea trickle down along the strap of Hux’s undershirt. It takes the space of a few breaths, but gradually, Hux can feel some of the sting begin to subside. He gives a slow nod.

 

Kylo lifts the towel to press it to the back of his neck, gently this time, and Hux shivers. He can feel a droplet fall beneath his collar, along the length of his spine, imagines that he can feel Kylo’s gaze tracing its path and quickly does his best to shake the image from his mind.

 

“We’ll need to transfer whatever furniture you want to sell to a storage unit until you come back.” He tries. His voice comes out reedier than he intends.

 

Kylo shifts behind him, wraps the towel around to the other shoulder. He’s closer, now, Hux can tell. He bites the inside of his cheek.

 

“Is it helping?” Kylo asks quietly.

 

“Mm.”

 

One of Kylo’s thumbs grazes the nape of his neck, and Hux feels the fine hairs there lift up. He measures his next exhalation carefully. It catches in the middle nonetheless.

 

“Don’t.” He breathes miserably.

 

Kylo leans back, biting down on his lower lip, nearly groaning. Hux’s fingers curl atop the table, and he drops his fists into his lap. He only realizes that he isn’t breathing when his chest begins to burn.

 

“I’m going to bed.” He says as he rises firmly, and then, softer, glancing over his shoulder only for the briefest of moments, “Thank you. For the tea.”

 

***

 

“Can’t we just give it all away?” Kylo grunts as he lowers his shoulder to shove his end of the aging couch up the ramp into the moving truck.

 

Hux nearly stumbles, but manages to move out of the way as it thuds into place, “You’ll have substantially less to pay to close out his accounts if you manage to sell it.”

 

“It’s junk.” Kylo protests, “It’s worthless junk. It belongs in a trash heap somewhere.”

 

Sighing, Hux glances over the motley collection slowly overtaking the back of their rented truck, “I’ll allow that some of it isn’t likely to fetch the most expensive of prices.” He offers.

 

Kylo slumps down onto the ramp, letting his back drop down against it and take his breath with it for a moment as it does. Hux perches delicately on the edge beside him.

 

“Leaving Louisiana isn’t enough of an encouragement to keep you working, then?” He asks with a faint smirk.

 

Kylo pushes his hands back through his hair, “Can we leave the planet?” He grumbles.

 

Hux’s nostrils flare, “If only.”

 

“Portland’s not any better.” Kylo sighs.

 

“I can’t say I’m particularly attached to it.”

 

Kylo rolls onto his side to face him, “Then why do you stay there?”

 

“I have a steady job.” Hux sniffs, “You might consider the idea.”

 

“You could get a job somewhere else.” Kylo offers, “You could even get one you liked.”

 

“Enough of that.”

 

“I mean it. You can go anywhere. So why don’t you?” Kylo insists.

 

Hux frowns, “I can’t just pack up my entire life and leave.”

 

“You hate it.”

 

“That doesn’t mean I have no obligations.” Hux huffs.

 

“So you do hate it.” Kylo shoots back.

 

“I didn’t say that.” Hux clips.

 

Kylo leans up until he’s sitting beside him, glancing back towards the house, where the front door remains propped open, furniture strewn on the front lawn.

 

“...Does it ever feel stop feeling like he’s still there?” He asks quietly.

 

Hux stills, gathering a slow breath, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

 

“Shut up.” Kylo says without bile.

 

Hux purses his lips, “...Not in so final a way as might be hoped, no.”

 

“Fuck.” Kylo sighs.

 

“Indeed.” Hux can feel Kylo studying him, doesn’t meet his eyes.

 

“You hated him, too.” Kylo says after a breath of silence.

 

“I sat through his entire funeral service.” Hux quips.

 

“Only because of what you imagined he’d say if you didn’t.”

 

Something hitches in Hux’s chest, and he can’t keep himself from turning to look at him. Kylo’s full, boyish lips are pressed together, almost eager. He’s watching him, his breathing even, and his overlong limbs are the calmest Hux has ever seen them.

 

“You’re intolerable.” Hux tells him, and rises.

 

***

 

Hux adjusts their bags in the trunk for the third time, double checks that everything is accessible.

 

“Do you want the cereal?” Kylo is leaning out the front door, shaking the box vaguely, “We don’t have any milk.”

 

Hux rolls his eyes, “Are you going to eat it on the road?”

 

“I would.”

 

“Then bring it here.”

 

Kylo trots over the lawn, down the driveway, stretching out his arm to offer it to him, “Put it in the front, though.”

 

“You’re not going to have any space to sit if we put everything in the front.” Hux notes.

 

“I’m not putting _everything_ in the front.” Kylo huffs.

 

Hux sniffs and plucks the box from his fingers, setting it gingerly in the center of the front seat, “There. Satisfied?”

 

“You’re an asshole.”

 

“Well, you’ll soon be free of me.” Hux quips.

 

Kylo frowns, watching him for a lengthy moment, “...I’m gonna’ make something for breakfast before we go.”

 

“Not soup.” Hux groans, “I’d be perfectly happy to never eat canned soup again.”

 

“Not soup.” Kylo agrees.

 

Hux watches him lope back into the house, watches the way his shoulders slouch as he walks before he can wrangle himself into looking away. He huffs a sigh and leans against the car, lighting a cigarette, more to occupy his hands than out of any particular craving. A few puffs soothe him into stillness, and he looks out over the swampland surrounding the house.

 

The roots of bald cypress crest the morning haze like enormous, slumbering creatures. Hux’s brows knit. He taps the ash from the end of the cigarette with his thumb. Casts a glance towards the truck, now tucked beneath a tarp in the side yard. Curses softly beneath his breath.

 

“Hux!”

 

Kylo’s startled voice from the opposite side of the house pulls him from his thoughts.

 

“Yes?” He calls back, straightening.

 

“Fire extinguisher!”

 

Hux blinks, then drops his cigarette and makes swiftly for the backyard. When he rounds the corner, he catches sight of flames licking their way up the side of the house from the grill, blackening the siding as they encroach.

 

“Fuck, _fuck!_ ” Kylo is yelping as he shields his face from the heat with his arms.

 

“Where is it?” Hux bites quickly.

 

“I thought you had one in the car!” Kylo barks back.

 

“Why would I have a fire extinguisher in the car?!”

 

“I don’t- because you’re just-” Kylo makes a wild motion toward him with one hand, “You don’t?!”

 

“No!”

 

Kylo explodes in a litany of curses, and Hux hesitates a moment before ducking through the smoke and into the back door. Save for what furniture they’ve left for Kylo to show the house, it’s bare, sterile. Hux rounds the corners of each room, scrabbles through cabinets that he knows for a fact they’ve already cleaned out. He’s crouching beneath the kitchen sink when one of Kylo’s hands loops around his wrist and pulls him back.

 

“Don’t.” Kylo whispers.

 

Hux whirls on him, “What?!”

 

“Don’t.” Kylo repeats, “Just...don’t.”

 

“The house is on fire, are you mad?” Hux gawks.

 

“So we’ll call the fire department when we get cell service again.”

 

Hux stares, “You-”

 

“Let it go.” Kylo says simply.

 

Chest heaving, Hux watches him, aghast, “...That’s practically arson.”

 

“Not if we both swear that we called as soon as we could.”

 

Eyes flicking towards the back window, slowly being consumed by flames, Hux drags in a breath, “You- we-”

 

Kylo is pulling him towards himself, seizing him around the narrow waist to devour his mouth. Hux feels himself unspool, broad and limitless, over countless possibilities. He sinks his fingers into Kylo’s hair, lets him have him until his lips are red and kiss stung, laughs nervously into his mouth until he can smell smoke.

 

“Go.” He pants as the heat grows heavy and close around them, “Let’s go, then, you mad thing.”

 

A grin splits Kylo’s features, and he pulls Hux along behind him and out into the daylight.

 

***

 

Hux tugs his jacket collar around his throat as the October breeze lifts up the handful fallen leaves around him. The doors of the office remain tauntingly still, and Hux leans up against the parklet ledge, fidgeting with one cuff. When he hears the thud of the push bar from inside, his gaze snaps back up.

 

Kylo is skulking out of the building, his hands fisted in the pockets of his worn leather jacket, heavy black scarf already piled up high around his neck.

 

“Well?” Hux demands as he strides over to meet him.

 

Kylo watches him wordlessly, face blank, for a few minutes, and Hux swears that he could strangle him. Then, his features shift, and he’s beaming, all teeth.

 

“Discharged?” Hux breathes.

 

“Discharged.” Kylo tells him.

 

Hux sighs with relief, leaning his full weight back into the ledge, “You had damned well better be, with all of the paperwork you cost me.”

 

Kylo reclines beside him, “So?”

 

“So...?” Hux repeats.

 

“Is all your stuff in the car?” Kylo asks.

 

Hux nods, “I’ll have you know that she’s very cross with me.” He remarks, lifting one hand to display the livid red scratches along his wrist. At Kylo’s groan, he purses his lips, “You had better make good with her if you intend for any of this to work out.”

 

“Fine, fine.” Kylo huffs, “I’ll be nice to your stupid cat.”

 

Hux sniffs, “Good.”

 

They fall silent for a few moments, and then Kylo, eyes dark with hope, speaks up quietly, “So...where to?”

 

Hux turns the question over in his mind. Then, the corner of his mouth pricking up faintly, he straightens, one set of fingers curling into the back of Kylo’s coat, “Surprise me.”


End file.
